VIDEO EXCERPTS, CLICK HERE
from CHAPTER 1
The boy lay awake in the crowded, foul-smelling dormitory, licking blood from the back of his hand and despising them all.
A soft rain began falling. Raindrops pattered against the window-panes like angelic voices, calling him away.
Droplets of rain kissed his face when he pushed up a small window, squeezed through, and dropped into the alley. A horse and carriage splashed past on the streets.
Without looking back, the boy scurried away from the work-house, the welts on his body drenched and soothed by the gently-falling rain. He found no shelter on the cold, wet streets of the little seaport. At last, he saw a flash of light through an open carriage-house door.
He stepped into the doorway, dripping wet. He listened warily to the stamping and snorting of the carriage horses. When he was certain he was alone, he pulled together a pile of straw, and lay down. He fell asleep listening to water trickle down the cobblestone streets of Liverpool on its way to the sea.
For days, he scurried about the city like a homeless animal. He found scraps of food behind bakeries, butcher-shops, and inns. He stole from push-carts. When he could find no food, he begged.
One morning he put out his hand to a kindly country gentleman in a greatcoat and top hat, the sort of gentleman who sometimes threw him a penny. Old Earnshaw bent at the waist and looked him squarely in the eye. When he asked the boy a series of kindly questions, the boy blurted out all he knew of his life.
Old Earnshaw’s face visibly softened. He took the boy's hand.
“Come with me, lad,” he said. “I shall take you home.”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE
From CHAPTER 11
Heathcliff pressed back against the settle, his heart hammering. He didn’t dare speak. The certainty of what was happening hit him like a slap in the face. Yet he could not stir from the bench where he sat as if shell-shocked, out of sight and silent and numb as a stone.
"If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable," said Catherine.
"Because you are not fit to go there," Nelly replied. "All sinners would be miserable in heaven."
"I dreamt once I was in heaven but it did not seem to be my home. I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke up sobbing for joy," she said.
"I tell you I won't hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine," Nelly said. "I'm superstitious regarding dreams."
“I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven, Nelly. If that wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t have thought of marrying Edgar Linton,” Catherine said. “Heathcliff is more myself than I am. But it would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now—”
Degrade her? Degrade her, Heathcliff thought, quietly rising to his feet.
He slipped out of the kitchen and staggered up the stairs, flushing and gasping for breath. He was drowning in a roiling sea of anger, grief, and pain.
In the musty desolation of his garret, and still gasping for breath, Heathcliff experienced an overwhelming urge to flee. Nothing on earth could hold him at Wuthering Heights. As he picked through his things, he felt utterly and totally betrayed.
He plucked up the enameled music-box Catherine had given him, the most beautiful thing he owned in the world. He hurled it against the wall. The music-box broke to pieces. The prickly metal heart of the mechanism dropped onto his pillow and released a few melancholy notes into the stuffy air.
Anger and pride welled up in him like a storm. He gathered what little money he had, pulled on a cloak, and hurried to the stables.
His old stallion stood in its stall, its back coated with sweat. The master of Wuthering Heights had not bothered to remove its saddle.
Wind whistled through the barn. Shutters banged against the side of the house. Joseph would be outside, he knew, pulling the shutters closed against the wind.
Heathcliff backed the horse out of its stall. Joseph burst through the door in a gust of wind, his eyes blazing with anger.
“Lowly flaysome Divil!” Joseph hissed. “What are you doing?”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE
From CHAPTER 21
In a high-backed chair behind a desk sat a pink-faced gentleman perhaps fifty years of age. The blue-eyed gentleman was casual in his appearance. He wore only a bathrobe, and no periwig atop his stringy grey hair. On his desk, a pewter teapot steamed beside an open ledger.
Joshua Bullin lit a white, long-stemmed ceramic pipe and exhaled a plume of smoke before motioning for Heathcliff to sit down. As the smell of American tobacco spread through the air like dusky perfume, Joshua Bullin fixed Heathcliff in his cool blue eyes.
“You’re a young man who must think of his future. I offer you an opportunity to make a handsome sum of money. Are you interested, sir?”
"I certainly may be,” Heathcliff said, leaning forward.
“It's hard physical work, in exotic climes. I know a captain who needs but one additional hand to complete his crew.”
“I am no sailor, sir. If that’s what you suggest.”
“To-morrow, a ship will sail on the most lucrative voyage to riches in all of Christendom,” Joshua Bullin said. “It carries English goods to Africa, black ivory to the New World, and returns with sugar and rum to England. The triangle trade, sir. Every man in Liverpool with money to invest wants in on it. Excuse me, but I am pressed for time. Will you avail yourself of this opportunity?”
“But sir. I have no experience at sea.”
“Every seaman alive has learnt, sir! My good-hearted captain will teach you all you need to know. Do look over this document, and give me your decision right away.”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE
The boy lay awake in the crowded, foul-smelling dormitory, licking blood from the back of his hand and despising them all.
A soft rain began falling. Raindrops pattered against the window-panes like angelic voices, calling him away.
Droplets of rain kissed his face when he pushed up a small window, squeezed through, and dropped into the alley. A horse and carriage splashed past on the streets.
Without looking back, the boy scurried away from the work-house, the welts on his body drenched and soothed by the gently-falling rain. He found no shelter on the cold, wet streets of the little seaport. At last, he saw a flash of light through an open carriage-house door.
He stepped into the doorway, dripping wet. He listened warily to the stamping and snorting of the carriage horses. When he was certain he was alone, he pulled together a pile of straw, and lay down. He fell asleep listening to water trickle down the cobblestone streets of Liverpool on its way to the sea.
For days, he scurried about the city like a homeless animal. He found scraps of food behind bakeries, butcher-shops, and inns. He stole from push-carts. When he could find no food, he begged.
One morning he put out his hand to a kindly country gentleman in a greatcoat and top hat, the sort of gentleman who sometimes threw him a penny. Old Earnshaw bent at the waist and looked him squarely in the eye. When he asked the boy a series of kindly questions, the boy blurted out all he knew of his life.
Old Earnshaw’s face visibly softened. He took the boy's hand.
“Come with me, lad,” he said. “I shall take you home.”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE
From CHAPTER 11
Heathcliff pressed back against the settle, his heart hammering. He didn’t dare speak. The certainty of what was happening hit him like a slap in the face. Yet he could not stir from the bench where he sat as if shell-shocked, out of sight and silent and numb as a stone.
"If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable," said Catherine.
"Because you are not fit to go there," Nelly replied. "All sinners would be miserable in heaven."
"I dreamt once I was in heaven but it did not seem to be my home. I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke up sobbing for joy," she said.
"I tell you I won't hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine," Nelly said. "I'm superstitious regarding dreams."
“I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven, Nelly. If that wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t have thought of marrying Edgar Linton,” Catherine said. “Heathcliff is more myself than I am. But it would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now—”
Degrade her? Degrade her, Heathcliff thought, quietly rising to his feet.
He slipped out of the kitchen and staggered up the stairs, flushing and gasping for breath. He was drowning in a roiling sea of anger, grief, and pain.
In the musty desolation of his garret, and still gasping for breath, Heathcliff experienced an overwhelming urge to flee. Nothing on earth could hold him at Wuthering Heights. As he picked through his things, he felt utterly and totally betrayed.
He plucked up the enameled music-box Catherine had given him, the most beautiful thing he owned in the world. He hurled it against the wall. The music-box broke to pieces. The prickly metal heart of the mechanism dropped onto his pillow and released a few melancholy notes into the stuffy air.
Anger and pride welled up in him like a storm. He gathered what little money he had, pulled on a cloak, and hurried to the stables.
His old stallion stood in its stall, its back coated with sweat. The master of Wuthering Heights had not bothered to remove its saddle.
Wind whistled through the barn. Shutters banged against the side of the house. Joseph would be outside, he knew, pulling the shutters closed against the wind.
Heathcliff backed the horse out of its stall. Joseph burst through the door in a gust of wind, his eyes blazing with anger.
“Lowly flaysome Divil!” Joseph hissed. “What are you doing?”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE
From CHAPTER 21
In a high-backed chair behind a desk sat a pink-faced gentleman perhaps fifty years of age. The blue-eyed gentleman was casual in his appearance. He wore only a bathrobe, and no periwig atop his stringy grey hair. On his desk, a pewter teapot steamed beside an open ledger.
Joshua Bullin lit a white, long-stemmed ceramic pipe and exhaled a plume of smoke before motioning for Heathcliff to sit down. As the smell of American tobacco spread through the air like dusky perfume, Joshua Bullin fixed Heathcliff in his cool blue eyes.
“You’re a young man who must think of his future. I offer you an opportunity to make a handsome sum of money. Are you interested, sir?”
"I certainly may be,” Heathcliff said, leaning forward.
“It's hard physical work, in exotic climes. I know a captain who needs but one additional hand to complete his crew.”
“I am no sailor, sir. If that’s what you suggest.”
“To-morrow, a ship will sail on the most lucrative voyage to riches in all of Christendom,” Joshua Bullin said. “It carries English goods to Africa, black ivory to the New World, and returns with sugar and rum to England. The triangle trade, sir. Every man in Liverpool with money to invest wants in on it. Excuse me, but I am pressed for time. Will you avail yourself of this opportunity?”
“But sir. I have no experience at sea.”
“Every seaman alive has learnt, sir! My good-hearted captain will teach you all you need to know. Do look over this document, and give me your decision right away.”
READ COMPLETE CHAPTER, CLICK HERE